


Resolute

by burntmythroatskullingmytea (Tytoaster)



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, High School, Modern AU, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Hunter AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tytoaster/pseuds/burntmythroatskullingmytea
Summary: The supernatural world is hidden right under our noses.  But What makes Earla so special that her math teacher would reveal himself as a vampire and attempt to end her bloodline? Lucky for her, Hunters like the Ragnarsons are experts at tracking and slaying pesky Vampires, but are they any good at rescuing unfortunate souls before it's too late?





	1. Resolute

Earla glared at the clock on the classroom wall urging it on. It was cruel having her least favourite class and her least favourite teacher in the last lesson of the term. And of course, Mr Colmillos still wanted everyone to work on right until he dismissed the class. Earla stared hard at the question on the board. What kind of monster does this?  Who puts letters in math? She thought, twirling her lucky pencil through her fingers before fumbling it and dropping it on the floor behind her. She sighed. Great, she had spent all lesson trying not to ogle him, only to waste that energy and self-control by being clumsy. She turned around and smiled a nervous and apologetic smile at her extremely attractive classmate Ivar Ragnarsson, who had recently moved here from somewhere far north.

“Sorry,” Earla whispered as she swung herself out of her chair and chased after the pencil. He leant to the side and reached the pencil next to the wheel of his wheelchair and handed it to her. Earla smiled a small grateful smile at him and he nodded stoically.

“Miss Sheehy, did I give you permission to leave your seat and disrupt my class?” Mr Colmillos asked demeaningly. No, but you disrupted your own class to ask a stupid question, she mentally bit back.

“No sir, sorry sir,” she mumbled and went to take her seat.

“Did I say you could take your seat?” He snarled.

“No sir,” she winced as she stood behind her chair. Her classmates gave her sympathetic looks. Why me? She thought. He wasn’t like this with any other student, even the worst behaved ones. Any small slip up and he’d pounce on her. She didn’t understand how all the other girls would swoon over him. They giggled and swarmed together gossiping about his beautiful eyes and abs and what not. She, however, just saw a bully, besides, there were far better-looking guys her own age.

“You can stay behind in room P13 and finish this question on the whiteboard in there…”

“But sir, I have to catch the bus, I can’t miss it, all boarders have to leave campus these holidays for the renovations…’

“Not my problem Miss Sheehy,” he snapped. Earla hung her head and stood in silence. She was going to have to ring Helen at the WCA and tell her she was going to have to find a later bus and check in later than expected. The bell rang and she sighed, packed her books away and began to trudge towards P13.

It struck her as odd that Mr Colmillos would want her to complete her work in the music studio, but she guessed he probably wanted to pack up his classroom so he needed to send her to a small, out of the way room. And the music studio was the perfect candidate.

* * *

She answered the question on the board just as Mr Colmillos entered the room. He stood next to the door and examined her work.

“May I leave now sir?” She asked. He narrowed his eyes and smirked, it made her hairs stand on end. That’s kinda creepy, she admitted.

“Sure, after you tell me one thing,” He grinned. She had never seen him so happy, it was so damn unnatural it freaked her right out. “Where did you get that pendant?” She frowned and instinctively reached for her stylised crucifix.

“Ah umm… I don’t know, I guess my parents gave it to me,” she stammered. She defensively stepped behind a desk and began to creep around the edge of the studio toward the door. Her stomach was twisting now. Something was wrong. Something had always been wrong.

“You guess?” He laughed, “Am I correct in assuming you’re an orphan then?”

“Yes sir,” she swallowed.  

“Oh you poor, poor creature,” he cooed. The click of the door echoed as it locked. It became hard to breathe and a scream stuck in her throat, “But it’s a good thing for me, it means that there’ll be no one to file a pesky missing persons report.” She let out a whimper and dashed forward trying to reach the door.

In a split second, she was on the ground. Her brain didn’t even register the pain or what had been flung through the air at her. She blinked and she groaned. She picked the chair off herself the stinging and bruising tugged at her. There was no way he could move that fast. As she picked herself up she heard manic laughter.

“I waited for this for a long time Earla, I always wondered why you never fell for my charms, why you weren’t like the others? At first, I reasoned that you were ‘a good girl,’ that you must just hide it well, but it finally clicked when I put your stupid little cross and your quaint little family name together, you’re one of them, it’s in your blood, I can’t believe I didn’t smell it earlier,” he rambled.

“Someone help me! He’s crazy! He wants to kill me!” Earla screamed. She continued to wail when Mr Colmillos eyes turned to jet black and he slowly stalked towards her.

“Scream all you want, Miss Sheehy” he smiles and knocked on the wall, “Soundproof, remember?” He cackled. What the hell was happening? Why was he talking about smell and blood, why were his eyes like that? What was he? She scrambled backwards towards the door.  She hammered her fist against it and jimmied the handle, she turned back to him, now only a few inches away. She sunk to the floor, back against the door, curling up in a ball.

“You know I expected more from you considering your lineage, but no matter, you’ll still fight your demise, and I don’t mind it when prey struggles, it keeps the blood warm.” He drew his lips back into a snarl and revealed four massive fangs.  Oh sweet Jesus those teeth were not natural. This was crazy. Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice echoed in her mind speaking words she didn’t quite want to hear, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ He’s a vampire. Either that or someone would jump out saying ‘You’ve been pranked by Prank Patrol.’ She looked up at the towering monster as he crouched down. She pulled out her crucifix and held it out. He laughed. Why was he laughing? Weren’t the rules that he couldn’t touch her? “Clever girl, but you do know that I can bite you anywhere, not just your neck? Although that is preferable, I can drain you through your leg, it’ll take longer…”

He was interrupted by shattering glass above her from the small window in the door. She shrieked and threw her arms above her head to shield it from the shards. Mr Colmillos wailed in pain as a water balloon burst over his head. He continued to scream and claw at his face.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to play with your food?” A familiar voice commented. She sprung up and rattled the door again. It was still locked. She locked eyes with her rescuer and heaved a heavy sigh of relief.  

“Are you okay?” Ivar asked looking past her to the groaning vampire and then continued to try and pick the lock on the other side

“Y-yes…I think so…” she stuttered, “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we’ve still got to get out of here before he recovers,” he swung the door open. “Hurry we don’t have much time, my brothers have the van in the staff car park.” She dashed out and down the hall and Ivar frantically wheeled his wheelchair after her.

“Did you just throw a water balloon filled with holy water at the teacher? Also what the hell is going on?! Why do you have Holy-water-balloons?!” She screeched.

“Not holy water, Garlic infused water. Burns better, the stuff’s basically like acid,” he corrected, “Run now, ask questions later,” he ordered. She turned back to him to see him struggling to keep up. She knew he hated people trying to help him, but he saved her life, she was going to save his. She turned around and ran up to him and got behind his chair and gripped the handles.

“What are you doing!?” He swatted at her.

“Pushing you, because I don’t think either one of us wants to die today, so hold on!” She commanded undeterred and ran faster than she’d ever ran in her life pushing his chair along. She let out what she thought was a fearsome battle cry, as she charged through the hallways, but it probably sounded more like a girl screaming her lungs out.

There was a roar behind them. She dared to turn her head to Mr Colmillos staggering into the walls like a drunk before glaring in their direction.

“I will feast on you Earla, I will end your bloodline, I will stop the infestation at the root,” he vowed, lumbering after them, “I will rid the world you of and your filthy kind!” He snarled after them.

“Toché,” Ivar mumbled.  Earla panted as she pushed open the door to the car park and  Ivar took control of his wheelchair back. She spied his older brother Hvitserk stuffing his face with a hamburger while headbanging to the radio while Ubbe leant against the hood of the van texting.

“GET THE CAR GOING!” Ivar screamed at them.

“OUR MATH TEACHER’S A VAMPIRE AND HE’S TRYING TO KILL ME!” Earla screamed at them and waved her arms around like a crazy person.  Ubbe looked up at them and jumped to action sliding the side door open. Hvitserk held his burger in his mouth as he started the van. Ubbe dashed forward and lifted Ivars chair into the side door.

“What category?” Ubbe asked.

“At least a cat four…” He trailed off just as the doors burst open and the Vampire math teacher stared at them. She turned around and saw him lingering under the shade of the roof. She started to dance around.  

“Haha sucker, the sun is… ouch!” She exclaimed as she sprawled on the asphalt and scraped up her hands and knees. “Stupid wheel stop!” She groaned and picked herself up.  

“Get in the van,” Ivar hissed.  She turned around and to her horror, in front of her Mr Colmillos was strutting across the car park. No sparkles, no sun block, nothing but a really ugly looking burn across his face and a look of sheer determination.

“Get in the van, now!” Ivar commanded, but she was already in and slamming the door

“DRIVE!” Ubbe shouted. Tires screeched as Hvitserk speed off. Earla lost her balance and slid along the floor in the back. She groaned as her head bumped against the back door.

“Holy shit! He’s a cat six,” Hvitserk swore through his mouthful of burger.

“Hvitserk we talked about the language,” Ubbe chastised before he saw Mr Colmillos sprinting after them in the rearview mirror, “Sweet son of a mother, he’s gaining on us, floor it! Put your seatbelt on you two!” Earla didn’t need to be told twice as she buckled up in the backseat. Ivar buckled his chair to the car wall and rummaged through a duffel bag on the ground.

“Jesus Ivar, what did you do to flip this guy off?”

“I just denied him a snack,” he stated, “The real person who ticked him off is Earla, she’s a Resolute.”

“Who’s Earla?” Hvitserk muttered as he finished his burger.

“Hi,” Earla stammered, Hvitserk turned around in his seat, his lips forming an ‘Oh’.   “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

“Sure thing sweetheart, just give me your number,” Hvitserk winked.

“WATCH THE ROAD!” Ubbe grabbed hold of the wheel and jerked the car out of the way of oncoming traffic. To be honest, Earla didn’t feel any safer in the car than out of it. Ubbe looked back into the rear view mirror and grimaced,

“Are you sure that’s all you did? Because this guy’s pretty determined.”

“Why didn’t you kill him Ivar?” Hvitserk asked swinging a hard right.

“Hmmm… I don’t know… maybe it has something to with the fact that I’d get arrested for bringing a crossbow to school and shooting my math teacher!”

BANG. Something landed on the roof.  Earla shrieked as the roof above her dented.  

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit,” Hvitserk swore.

“Take a left!” Ivar ordered. Earla eyes widened as Ivar pulled out a large crossbow from the duffle bag. She watched him load a bolt expertly. How many times had he done this? “Try to shake him off!” There was another loud band and the roof dented further.

“Ivar…”  Earla asked uncertainly as the roof caved next to her head.

“Move!” He took aim at the dent as she fumbled with her seat belt.  As soon as she unclipped her seatbelt there was a terrible ripping sound as a fist-sized hole was punched into the roof. Ivar loosed the bolt but it didn’t find its target, just empty air. “Where did you go?” He asked rhetorically, “Hvitserk pull into the alley, cut the engine.”

“Did we lose him?” Hvitserk inquired.

“I don’t know,” Ubbe gritted as he unclipped his seatbelt and moved into the back. Ivar unclipped his chair from the wall and loaded another bolt.

Hvitserk stared up at the hole in the roof, “Great, that’s going to be a pain in the arse to explain to the insurance company.”   

“This is a quiet neighbourhood, we’ll take him down here,” Ivar commented as Ubbe rummaged through boxes that lined the few shelves that lined the interior. Earla frowned. Take him down? As in kill him? Was that legal? What kind of people did that sort of thing, she thought, but then it clicked.

“You’re all vampire hunters!” She gasped.

“Well done, you figured it out, congrats, what do you want? A gold star?” Ivar asked with his voice dripping with sarcasm

“Ivar…” Ubbe shot him a disappointed look as he tossed an axe to Hvitserk. “Yes, Among other things, but yes we hunt the supernatural,” Ubbe confirmed.

“So you gonna go out there and stake him or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Hvitserk replied as he cracked open the side door cautiously. Ubbe followed close behind. Ivar crawled out of his chair and moved around with surprising ease. She watched his muscles ripple like waves under his uniform as he swung his crossbow over his back. How was he this attractive? He turned back around to face her she quickly shut her gaping mouth and averted her eyes.

“Stay here and don’t touch anything,“ he instructed her before he left her in the van alone.

Earla curled her legs up to her chest and inspected her grazed knee. before turned her head and peeked out the door. The brothers were moving slowly and carefully, searching the alley.

“Where did he go?” Hvitserk muttered.

“He’s a cat six, he can’t transform or just disappear, he’s around here somewhere,” Ivar announced. Earla shivered, how would she ever sleep again knowing that these things were real and that they were this powerful?

“But he could be above cat six…” Ubbe began  

“No, he can’t, Earla may be a Resolute, but she is untrained, she wouldn’t be able to withstand a hypnotic force that strong,” Ivar explained. Hypnotism!? Is there anything these monsters can’t do. However, she couldn’t help the sense of pride. She was a Resolute, whatever that was. It seemed she was special for once in her life. She couldn’t be hypnotised, not exactly an awesome superpower but, it had been useful.

There was a soft thud behind her. She whipped her head around assuming something had fallen from a shelf. She was surprised when a small black object darted out of a box. She shrieked and scrambled back as it swooped her. The thing landed on the ground next to the door. It was a bat, but not for much longer. It morphed into its humanlike form and smiled sickly as it slid the door shut and lock. Turns out Ubbe was right, It was above a cat six, whatever that meant. She screamed and clambered for the front seat.  

“EARLA!” She heard multiple voices cry outside of the vehicle. She managed to get over the centre console and reach for the door handle before a cold hand wrapped around her ankle and yanked her backwards.

“Use the keys, unlock the door!” Ivar screamed at Hvitserk

“I left them in the ignition,” Hvitserk panicked.

“YOU! IDIOT!”  

Earla clung to the handbrake and met Ivar’s face through the window. She locked eyes with him before searing pain arched up her leg. Ivar pounded on the window as she screamed in pain. However, the pain didn’t stop with the puncturing. At first, it was like six tetanus shots at once, then it was like having your insides removed through the eye of a needle.  Tears wet her eyes as she clung to the hand brake. Her mind fuzzed, but one thing ran through her mind, she wasn’t going to die today. She turned to look at the monster gorging itself on her blood.

“That’s my blood you overgrown leech!” She screeched and drew her other leg up and drove it into her math teacher’s head. She really wished she had thought that through. More pain flared as the vampire’s fangs tore the flesh of her leg open in long gashes.  He was unfazed and kept devouring her.

“Your mother would be so disappointed,” he taunted as he lapped up her blood, “And your father, oh he would be ashamed that you even bear his name.” She squirmed. Her senses blurred. She let go of the handbrake and slumped on the floor. Her mind screamed at her to get up, to do something, but she wanted nothing more than to just lie down and sleep. But something was poking her chest. She faintly raised her arm to her pocket in her school blouse and discovered her lucky pencil.

It was only lucky because she had managed to keep it throughout all of high school. But now it was lucky for an entirely different reason. She felt herself falling away but she’d be damned if the blood sucking bastard didn’t go down with her. She clutched the pencil and looked down at the exposed spot between his collarbone and neck. There, something inside her told her. Shove it right there. And she did. The monster howled and grasped at the miniature stake. His blood sprayed everywhere. It was gross, a sludgy, black goop, no wonder he wanted to drink her’s.

She heard glass shatter. Her vision beaded into dots. As she heard a faint click as the door unlocked. The vampire slumped against the wall of the van, her lucky pencil in his hand staring between her and it chuckling. He then gazing to her and up at the brothers she assumed were behind her.

“Here begins the reign of Earla the last,” he wheezed. She heard a twang and a snap as Ivar loosed a bolt.

“Earla, stay with me, stay with me Earla, we’re going to get you help, Earla…” Ubbe’s words were the last thing to ring in her ears before she fell away into the abyss.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in her life, she was awoken not by sound or touch, but by smell. She could smell freshly washed linen, sage and something unidentifiable.  She cracked open her eyes and hissed at the brightness. Her mind was clouded. She couldn’t think straight. She opened her eyes again and they adjusted. She was in an old room. It was quite bare, plain cream colour walls an old fashioned writing desk near the bed and a dresser on the other side. The bed she lay in was a vintage metal framed bed. This was weird.  She had no idea where she was or how she got here. She tried to sit up but failed miserably. She laid back on the pillow and thought for a moment. Then it hit her like a sack of bricks. Mr Camllios and Ivar, his brothers, she nearly died and…and…she got bitten.

“Oh God,” she murmured. She had been bitten. That meant that she was one of them. She was dead. It couldn’t be true. But the more she thought about it the more it made sense.That’s why she could smell everything. That’s why the sunlight through the window was bothering her.

“Oh God! Ohgodohgodohgod…” She sobbed. She was dead.  Now she had to eat people. She’d never be able to eat garlic bread again. She’d be hunted. Ivar and his brothers would want to kill her. She shook and looked down at her skin to see it was paler than usual. She had to find out where she was and get out of here. She needed to hide. Leave the country, go somewhere with terrible weather and no sun.

She grunted and used her arms to push herself up. She seemed to be gaining control of her body again. She swung her legs out of bed and winced at the pulling and straining. She grimaced at the bright red bandages that smothered it. It raised another question. Who the hell put them on her? Did the brothers try and save her before she died? It didn’t matter she needed to get up and find out where she was and a way out of here.  She lifted herself from the bed and stabled herself by leaning against the headboard. Taking a deep breath she took a step forward. And promptly fell flat on her face.

“Owww,” she moaned face down on the carpet. Then her head shot up in alarm. Someone was coming. No, two people were coming. She could smell them before she heard footsteps confirming her thoughts. Not really knowing what to do, she rolled under the bed. Hopefully, whoever it was would believe she wasn’t here. Her heart accelerated as the door creaked open.

“Shit!” She heard the voice and Immediately knew who it was.

“You had one job Hvitserk,” the older brother sighed.

“It’s not my fault I needed to pee!”  

“Come on, let’s tell Ivar, I don’t think she could’ve gotten far with that leg,” Ubbe suggested. Earla lay still and quiet but froze when she spotted a spider descending from the underside of the bed. she bit her lip and tried to back away from it, but it hit the ground and started to crawl to wards her.

“She is probably freaking out,” Hvitserk guessed, “We aren’t good host are we?”

“No, we’re not,” Ubbe admitted with a chuckle. Earla backed up till her foot hit the wall but the thing kept coming. She reared her head up away from it and felt the dull thud as her head collided with the metal.

“What was that?” The brother’s heads turned towards the noise and crept towards the bed slowly.  They stopped short of the bed and Earla held back a sob as the spider crawled over her hand.  She then felt a strong hand grasp her uninjured leg and drag her out from under the bed. She screamed and slapped at Hvitserk.   

“Stay away from me!” She screamed

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hvitserk struggle to hold her, “Earla, calm down.”

“Please, don’t kill me,” she pleaded, “I swear I will only eat cows or something.”

“What?” Hvitserk froze and she took the to opportunity punched him in the face. “Ah, oww, something’s broken!” Hvitserk clutched his nose and flopped to the bed.

“Earla we’re not going to kill you,” Ubbe assured and took a step back holding his hand up in surrender while she scrambled back on her hands.

“You’re lying,” she scooted towards the dresser, “It’s what you do, it’s your job to rid the world of my filthy kind!”

“Earla what the hell are you talking about?” Ubbe questioned. She smelt someone else. She turned to the doorway and felt a sharp pain in her next.  She met Ivar’s eyes as he lowered the crossbow. “Ivar!” Ubbe screamed. Her vision began to fuzz and she reached up and plucked the syringe looking dart from her neck. Crap.

“What else was I supposed to do?!” She slumped on the ground. “She wouldn’t calm down, I had to drop her!” Ivar explained exasperatedly.

“You shot her with tranquiliser?!” Ubbe rushed to her and started clicking his fingers and poking her, “We’re trying to convince her we weren’t going to hurt her and you go shoot her! When she wakes up she’s going to freak out, again!” She shut her eyes but tried to hang on.  

“We certainly aren’t good at handling live ones are we?” Hvitserk mused as she faded out.  

* * *

This time waking up was different. Buzzing in every sense, that was what she felt. She moaned groggily.  A fuzzy shape blurred next to her and a garbled noise met her ears. Slowly the world reordered.

“Earla, can you hear me?” She squinted at the young man next to her. “Jesus Ivar how much did you pump into her?” Her eyes darted in the direction the voice was aimed. On her other side, her classmate sat observing her closely.

“Just enough Hvitserk,” he answered. Her breath quickened and she began to squirm back towards the headboard. “Earla, please calm down, no one’s going to hurt you,” he reassured.

They were lying, they were trying to kill her. But why would she be alive now if they had the chance to kill her while she slept? Her mind stopped on that thought.

“Just get it over with, make it quick, I don’t want to live my life as one of them,” she croaked.

“What?” Ubbe asked confused, “We aren’t going to kill you, why do you keep thinking we are?”

“Oh that’s hilarious,” Ivar chuckled.  Earla and his brothers looked at him in confusion. “Don’t you see what’s happening?”  

“Enlighten me Ivar how is this hilarious?” She snarled furiously, he thought it was funny?

“You think you’re a vampire cause you got bitten, don’t you?” he nodded at her.

She open and shut her mouth like a fish, “You mean, I’m not?”

There was a short second of silence before, all the brother’s burst into laughter. She felt anger bubbling up in her, she had already had a crap day. She was confused, tired, hungry, scared witless and now these assholes were laughing at her.  She had had it.   

“SOMEONE BETTER EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OR I’M GOING TO THROTTLE ALL OF YOU!”

They all blinked, stunned at her outburst. She felt sudden conviction for yelling. She hated yelling and being yelled at. She just didn’t know how else to get her point across to them.

“Sorry,” she murmured, “I’m just really confused and freaked out and… and…”  she needed to stop or she’d break down into tears.

Ubbe rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry Earla, we aren’t really used to this, we usually just track down vampires and kill them, most of the time we only find vampires after they have… um… we never really have to deal with a victim,” he explained solemnly, “But you can rest easy now, you’re safe here. I understand  you have a lot of questions and Ivar will do his best to answer them…”

“WHAT!?” Ivar gawked, “I don’t know how…”

“She’s your, classmate, she knows you the best,” Ubbe excused and left promptly.

“I’ll see how dinner’s coming along,” Hvitserk shot behind him as he hurriedly left the room leaving her alone with Ivar.

They sat in silence staring at each other. Despite how confused she was, she got the distinct feeling Ivar was somehow more awkward.

“So, easy question first, where am I and how long have I been here?” She asked.  

Ivar seemed to sigh in relief, “This is our house, Kattegat Manor, it’s been in my family for generations, you can stay here until you recover,” he explained,  “As for how long, about two days.”

“Two days!” She panicked, “The WCA… I didn’t…”

“That’s been taken care of, Hvitserk  and I went back to school and got your luggage so you had some clothes to wear, a lady named Helen called your phone yesterday asking about why you hadn’t checked in, so we told her you had an accident and we took you to hospital,“ he explained.

“Oh, thanks for that,” she frowned. She guessed they couldn’t take her to a hospital, they’d expose that Vampires actually exist.  “So why aren’t I a vampire, I got bitten pretty badly?”

“Read Dracula?”

“Nope.”

“You should, most accurate depiction I’ve ever read, none of this weird contagious zombie misconceptions, biting you doesn’t turn you, drinking their blood does,” he explained.

“Ew who’d drink that stuff?”

“You’d be surprised,” he shrugged.

“But I can smell stuff, like not naturally, like I can smell you and your brothers,“ she paused, “Not in a bad way, you don’t smell bad, you smell good.” Ivar looked up at her strangely. Oh crap fix it, she panicked “No wait you smell normal, like people should smell… but don’t because I’m not normal… umm,” She was just going to shut up now. She was only digging the hole deeper and deeper.

“You may have inhaled some of the blood or contaminated your own with his in the scuffle, you might experience symptoms like light sensitivity, enhanced smell and garlic intolerance for a few days till it passes out of your system, it’s normal, I’d only be worried if you developed a craving for human blood,” A bell rang distantly, “Dinner.”

“So I’m kinda a vampire?”

“No.” He rolled back his chair. “You need to have a thirst for blood and mild hypnotic abilities to be considered a class 1 vampire or kinda a vampire, even then it’s reversible with treatment if you don’t drink human blood, unfortunately, once you drink human blood, that’s it, no turning back.”

“Class?”

“How powerful a vampire is, the longer a vampire survives and the more people they kill the more powerful they get and the more of their powers they have.”

“So I just got like vampire flu or something?”

“It’s called Parlamiasecius  but if it makes you comfortable to think of it like that, sure,“ he shrugged, “You coming to dinner?”

“I can’t walk, it hurts,” she stammered.  He looked at her with something she couldn’t really discern.

“Well cawl,” he suggested. She frowned. She felt embarrassed at the notion and she didn’t even know why.

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry,” she opted.  

He rolled his eyes and huffed, “Fine.” He slowly wriggled out of his chair and sat on the floor looking at her expectantly, “Well come on, I’ll take you to dinner…”She froze at that and lifted an eyebrow. Did he just? “…Escort you to dinner… I mean,” he corrected awkwardly. She let out a small chortle before shimmying off the bed.

“So the vampire slaying thing, what’s with that, is it like a hobby, a job or secret government thing?” She puffed as she struggled to keep up with Ivar as she dragged herself through the grand hallways full of family trees and black and white photos.

“It’s more of a family tradition,” he shrugged. They reached a set of beautiful oak stairs which had an electric chair lift that Ivar ignored. He began descending down the steps with ease. Earla looked at the obstacle with worry. Ivar turned back to her and sighed. “It’s not as hard as it looks, just go slowly, one arm at a time, it will be harder to come back up,” he instructed. He really isn’t that good at being encouraging, Earla smiled nervously and set her eyes on the step in front of her.  One hand, then the other, hold your weight and don’t face plant. It was hard, but Ivar was right it wasn’t as hard as she thought it was. She eventually made it to the bottom of the stairs and slumped against the wall puffing, How the hell did he do this every day, “Come on your dinner will be cold by the time you get to it,” he teased. She groaned and plodded along after him.

* * *

“So Earla, What do you plan on doing after school?” Ubbe attempted to make awkward conversation. She looked up from her roast.  Really? He was asking that question.

“I don’t know, maybe study history or English?” She replied with her standard answer.

“What would you do with that?” Hvitserk asked. She would have slumped down onto the table if it were socially acceptable and not the grandest dining room she had ever been in.

“Maybe become a teacher or professor,” she stated with uncertainty.

“Professor Sheehy,” Ivar tested, there was a simultaneous clatter of cutlery dropping, “I think it wo…what’s wrong?” He glance from brother to brother, both deadly quiet.  She frowned.

“You’re a Sheehy?” Ubbe asked in awe.

“Yeah I think so that’s the name the person who dropped me off gave me,” she shrugged and continued to eat.

“What about it?” Ivar interrogated.

“You’re supposed to be the smart one!” Hvitserk jeered.

“Of course she’s a strong Resolute, and the pendant, gods it’s so obvious,” Ubbe mumbled.

“Okay,” Earla huffed, “That is the third time I have heard you call me that, now what the hell does it mean?!”

“It means you naturally have a harder mind to influence under hypnosis, you, in particular, have a very strong mind, with training you could even be immune,” Ubbe explained.

“I still don’t get what this has to do with her last name,” Ivar fumed.

“Didn’t you pay attention to fathers history lessons?” Hvitserk scolded.

“You forget I didn’t know father like you did,” Ivar scowled and Earla felt a familiar pang of pain in her chest.

“You must remember uncle Floki’s legends?”Ubbe prompted.

“Yes of course,” Ivar rolled his eyes and gestured for his brother to continue.

“Sheehy is one of the clans descended from Farloan the first, the first to find and unite the clans of every country.  Earla is born a hunter,” Ubbe explained. Ivars eyes widened with understanding.

But something wasn’t right. She smelt sweat, and she smelt nerves. She didn’t quite know if what she was detecting was right, but all of a sudden the three brothers were on edge.  

“They were royalty in England and Ireland, High Arbitrators, until the civil war,” Hvitserk added.

“The civil war, you mean the American Civil war?” she asked intrigued.

“No,” Ivar sighed, “He meant the civil war of the 90s between hunter clans,” Ivar explained, “A lot of clans lost family and the Vamps took advantage of our distraction and their population expanded and our generation has been trying to fix our predecessors mistakes.”

“What about my family? What happened to them?”Again she could smell the anxiety wafting from all of them.

“The Sheehys they tried to hold their throne in England already losing their throne in Ireland to another Faloan descended clan early on. They defended it well but were betrayed and killed in 99, every last one of them, or so we thought,” Ubbe retailed sadly.

“Earla the last,” she whispered to herself, “Who killed my family?” Again another jolt of fear pulsed through the room and she could almost hear their heart rates accelerate. What are they hiding?

“Eccbert of Wessex,” Ubbe answered cooly while he reeked of tension.

“So is he in prison? Did he get away with it?” She demanded to know. There had to be some kind of justice in this weird world of monsters and hunters.  That man was responsible for years of her loneliness and heartache.

“No, he’s dead now,” Hvitserk assured her.

“He had an unfortunate accident,” Ivar sneered, immediately leading her to believe that it was not, in fact, an accident.

* * *

She limped around the guest bathroom now that Ubbe had found her some crutches to hobble on. She brushed her teeth and let her mind wander. Today had been nuts. Not only did she have ‘vampire flu’ but her cute classmate and his family were vampire hunters. Not only that but there were other families or clans all over the world who had been doing it for generations. The crazy thing she couldn’t get over was the fact that she was part of it.  Her family had ruled the other Irish and English clans. Had they not been killed all those years ago she would have been taught how to hunt and slay vampires like Ivar. She would know how to protect herself and she would be royalty. She sighed and bent down to spit and rinse. She lifted her head and her eyes widened when she spotted the figure in the mirror behind her.  She opened her mouth to scream.

“Sshh… Don’t scream, I mean you no harm,” he stammered quickly, sticking the scream to her throat.

“Who… What.. How.. did you get in here?” She stammered and turned to face the young man.

“You need to go,” he advised matter of factly. She looked to his fluffy blonde mullet and frowned.  What was he trying to achieve with that awful nest? She then realised he didn’t answer her question.

“What are you doing here?” She suddenly felt a bit conscientious in her Pyjamas.

“If you ever want to leave, do it now,” he suggested seriously, he took a step forward and his footstep didn’t echo on the tiled floor. She noticed a distinct lack of smell, and it sent shivers up her spine. She took a step back into the vanity. “They can’t decide what to do with you, they’re downstairs talking about what to do the basement now, if I were you I would make the choice easy for them, run, hide.”  She just blinked and continued to wonder how he got in here.

“Gods you are clueless,” he gritted, “Didn’t you sense their lies? their nervousness?” The young man sunk his head into his hands and let out a frustrated groan.

“I don’t understand, who are you talking about…”

“Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe, you’re a threat!” He tensed. She stiffened.

“Why am I a threat?” She pried.

“Finally you’re asking the right questions,” he sighed, “My brothers weren’t entirely truthful, yes it is true Eccbert killed your family, but my father helped in the hope of usurping the court, and last year when Eccbert was killed we finally got that title at the cost of our father’s life and even our mother got caught up in it,” he explained.

“We Lothbroks have been High Arbitrators for 8 months now and we plan to be for much longer, but suddenly you show up as the rightful heir and you threaten everything we’ve tried so hard to build. It’s not just us Lothbroks either, you threaten everyone,” he warned, “The Ingstad Clan, the Finehair Clan, the Wessex Clan the list goes on and on, all these people are grasping to be High Arbitrator and you are the only one with legitimate claim to it, you’re not safe here,” he implored.

She just shook her head. No, no, no, she didn’t want the throne, she didn’t want to threaten anyone.  The brothers had treated her well they had saved her, provided for her, they were kind to her. This you man must be mistaken. Ubbe was kind and calm. Hvitserk was a joker, and she had known Ivar for a while now, he was smart and he was passionate about things he liked. None of them would even hurt her, would they?

“But they… he wouldn’t… just because I … no, I know Ivar he wouldn’t…” She tried to convince herself.

“Don’t be naive, I think if anything these past few days have shown you how little you actually know about him,” he spat. She couldn’t argue with that. But then something hit her. This man had said brothers. Was he a fourth brother, why wasn’t he at dinner?

But most importantly, “Why are you helping me if you are a Lothbrok?”

“Enough blood has been spilt in this meaningless scrabble,” he dismayed. She furrowed her brow as an idea popped into her head.

“There doesn’t have to be more blood shed, what if I took the throne and then gave it to you and your brothers…”

“You don’t get it do you!?” He cut her off, “They want to keep the power, they don’t care if you’re a nice person or that you don’t want the position. Your pathetic school girl’s crush on Ivar is blinding you from the truth; this is not some fantasy, this is real life and real death,” he gripped her shoulder with cold hands and shook her, “You have no training, no support, no friends or understanding, you couldn’t take the throne if you wanted to you need to get out while you still can!”

“You are lying they…”

“Ivar is crazy, if anyone was more likely to kill you, it would be him, he has killed and he will do it again to get what he wants!” He shook her again and took a step back and bared his teeth. The colour drained from his face and she covered her mouth to stifle her horrified scream. There was blood dribbling down his chest from a gaping wound in his chest. “Take a good look Earla,” he gestured to his chest, "This is what happens when someone crosses Ivar, unless you want to share this bleak existence with me, trapped between life and death get, out!” He warned before he vanished into nothing. She was left breathless leaning against the vanity. She jumped when a bang on the door startled her.

“Earla are you okay, you’ve been in there for ages?” Ivar knocked. She took and deep breath and cracked open the door to see him back in his wheelchair,  waiting in the hall.  She hobbled out and smiled at him.

“Yeah I’m fine,” she lied.

“You look a bit pale are you alright?” He asked

“I’m just tired,” she excused and continued down the hall shrinking under the feeling his eyes boring into her back.


	3. part 3

This was just bizarre. It was 2 AM and here she sat in her pyjamas with a poor excuse for a cheeseburger and a stolen sword strapped to her side at a grubby table in the local Mcdonalds.  The sword was overkill, but as she hobbled down the stairs trying not to make a sound, the ornamental sword mounted to the wall promised more protection than her lucky pencil. **  
**

Earla felt as if she had stepped back in the nineties when she ditched her iPhone for a graffitied pay phone outside a deserted Laundromat. So far she had no indication that the Ragnarsons were tech savvy, but she guessed it was safer to make sure she couldn’t be tracked when she called the motel in the next town. It was too predictable to call the WCA. Everything she did had to be careful, a false move could be her last move.

Now, she sat waiting for the next bus out of here, backpack and crutches stacked next to her while the employees whispered and nodded in her direction. She attempted to take another bite out of her burger but the overwhelming smell of fakeness clogged her nostrils. She hated this. Looking over her shoulder everywhere, feeling watched. She had no idea if anyone was following her, but it was entirely possible. Apparently, according to ghost boy, everyone was trying to kill her.  She wondered if the Ragnarsons were asleep, had they noticed she was gone? Or would they find out in the morning? She hoped the latter, that meant she had more time to get the hell out of here.   

She sighed, what if she was wrong? What If she wasn’t in any trouble at all. What if Ivar’s ghost brother had lied?  It didn’t matter she shook her head, other’s would be. She had to find someone to train her. She felt now after being ominously dubbed ‘Earla the last’ she owed it to her family to at least try and continue their legacy.

“Are you alright darl?” A woman in her late forties asked with concern.

“I’m fine,” She nodded and flashed a weak smile.

“Are you sure?” She persisted. Earla nodded. “That’s a nice sword you got there,” the woman commented.

“Costume party,” Earla improvised, “I’m Percy Jackson.”

“Oh, my son’s a big fan of the movie,” She tried to make polite conversation. Earla scowled, how could somebody even say that?

“He should give the books a try,” Earla suggested. She then frowned when she saw a black van screech up in the parking lot. The doors slid open and six people dressed in varying styles of clothes from different periods piled out. Costume party? She thought hopefully. That thought didn’t last long when she noticed they were sniffing the air.  Earla’s own nose started to detect smells she could not interpret. Not good, she concluded.

* * *

 

“Is there a back way out?” Earla asked the woman and hastily gathered her things.  

“Umm… yeah?” She gestured and ushered her towards the kitchen. The group of period dress enthusiasts now where mulling around the front door. The cashier walked to the front door wearily.

“Dudes, it’s open,” he mumbled as he opened the door, but they still stood there expectantly.

“Do you want me to call the cops?” The woman asked as Earla reached the back door and unlocked it.

“I think a priest may be more appropriate,” she mumbled as she stepped outside.

“Umm… you can come in, God, are you guys like stoned or something?” The cashier huffed.

One smiled a devious grin, “Thank you for your invitation.” Earla swung herself outside and began to hightail hobble through the drive-thru area as she heard the shrieks. Her breath changed into short puffs and she furiously clawed her way forward. She barely heard the back door open when she was flung into the garden bed.

“Kin slayer!” A woman screeched at her. Earla groaned at the impact. She rolled over,  unsheathing the sword at her side and swinging it in front of her as she shrugged off her backpack. She looked up at the woman in her bloodstained Victorian gown. Kin slayer? As the other vampires closed in she could the see resemblance in some of them but others seemed totally unrelated. This was Mr Camllios’ family, she concluded.

“Ahh I can see the resemblance, you’re all butt ugly,” she jabbered. She hoped if she seemed more confident she may be able to bluff her way out of this one. “I am Earla Sheehy and I am your worst nightmare.” She pulled herself up on her crutches and tried to look as serious as possible. Their fangs glinted in the dim streetlight as they collectively laughed at her. She was so dead.

“I am warning you,” she swung her sword in an arc in front of her. One of the larger males slapped the sword from her hands as if it were nothing. She whimpered and took a step back.

“This is the Sheehy? Poor thing, it’s so pathetic I actually feel sorry for it,” the female taunted. They began to slowly advance, enjoying the terror in her eyes. Earla had one last idea.

“Get back!” She screamed and drew out her tiny pencil still stained black with Mr Camllios’ blood, “I have slain your kind before and I will do so again!” Surprisingly, their eyes widened in fear as they began to back up. Earla smiled and brandished the pencil. They hissed and turn to run, some dashing off so fast if she blinked she would have missed it. “Yeah, you better run you overgrown leeches!” Earla shouted after them triumphantly. The lead female snarled and her body shrivelled into a bat’s, as she hastily fluttered into the night, “Or fly… that’s fine too,” she mumbled in relief. She froze as a new, forest-y, scent hit her nostrils.  There was a growl behind her and hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She swallowed and swivelled around to see what had really spooked the vampires off.

Five meters in behind her was a massive grizzly bear. Could this night get any weirder?

“I agree with the bloodsucker, you’re so pathetic, I pity you,” it mocked.  Apparently, the night could get weirder.

“Oh, sweet Jesus you can talk?” She swore and took a step back tripping, landing on her backside with a wince.

“Get up!” It ordered her, “Pick up your sword! I refuse to dishonour your family any further than you have,” it growled.  She backed up on her hand and retrieved her fallen sword. “Your brave, I’ll give you that!”

The more she looked at this bear the more she noticed. The way its face moved and made readable expressions, the way its fur seemed darker in some areas forming patterns, as if it’s skin underneath had been tattooed. Finally its eyes, they were blue and almost human.    

“What happened to you?” She asked as she pulled herself up.

“Defend yourself!” He demanded ignoring her.

“From what?” She looked around confused.

“Gods, you really have no idea do you?” He chuckled, he reared up on his hind legs sighing, “I’m going to kill you.”

“What?” Was all she managed before she dove to the ground to dodge his massive paw.

“It’s nothing personal, really, it’s just family business,” he explained as he continued to try and squish her. She rolled until she hit a wheel stop and found herself trapped under the massive bear.  She raised her sword and swung at his shoulder, but he swatted her hand down into the pavement pinning her. She tugged and wriggled her arm, she started to hyperventilate and his head loomed over her, jaws aimed at her throat.  She turned her head to the side and shut her eyes and prepared for the end.

“Bjorn!” A familiar voice growled. She cracked open an eye and saw Ubbe tearing down the pathway with Hvitserk beside him and Ivar wheeling furiously behind them. Great.

“Exercitum in Praesidium! You know The Code!” Ivar screamed something presumably in Latin and aimed his crossbow at the bear. The bear, now known as Bjorn, visibly tensed and drew his mouth into a snarl and reluctantly pulled back from her but still kept her hand pinned to the pavement.

“You can not claim Host’s Protection unless she has supped with you, little brother,”  Bjorn snarled. Earla grimaced. This guy? Really? How many more brothers did Ivar have?

“She has, haven’t you Earla?” Ivar asked urgently.

“Supped? As in eaten with you? Umm…yeah, we had lamb roast,” she stammered.  Bjorn retracted his grip and let out a frustrated roar. His body seemed to curl into itself and contort until a tall muscular blonde man stood in his place and Earla thanked God the Were-bear, or whatever the hell he was, was wearing clothes.   

“You can’t protect her forever,” Bjorn snarled and stepped back toward the curb, “It’s only a matter of time until you turn your backs, and trust me, brother,” he grinned and pulled out a flask of strange fluorescent liquid, “If I don’t end her, someone else will,” he dropped the bottle creating a small puddle into which he sank and disappeared with it. Earla swallowed deeply as she rose to her feet.

“Earla,” Ubbe called and beckoned her towards them. She drew her sword.

“How did you find me?” She demanded.

“Logically, you would go to a public place near a transport, also with your leg you couldn’t have gone far, which narrowed down which bus station you were near, I then narrowed it down further by finding one that had a 24hrs establishment nearby,” Ivar explained with what seemed like a hint of pride in his eyes. Was she really that predictable?

“It doesn’t matter, Earla, you’re not safe here, come back home with us,” Hvitserk held out his hand.  Earla stood firm, holding her sword in front of her.

“No! I don’t want any part of this, I don’t want that crown, I don’t want this life and I most certainly don’t want to be stabbed in the back!”

“Earla what are you talking about?” Hvitserk shook his head.

“You are High Arbitrator’s, you were going to kill me!”   

“Who told you that?” Ivar questioned. She stiffened and held the sword out firmly, teetering on her crutches. He said ‘who told you’, not ‘what do you mean’ or ‘What, no! What are you talking about?’ She felt tears prickle her eyes as the last bit of hope she had fled her.  

“So it’s true, you’re going to kill me,” she sobbed.

“What? No! Calm down,” he stammered, “I’ll explain later but right now I need you to trust us, we need to get you home.”  Her senses were invaded with the smell of sweat and panic from all three brothers.

“No, you will explain it now! I don’t know who to trust, and until I do, I’m not going anywhere with anyone!” She yelled.

“Don’t make me dart you!” Ivar yelled back.

“No one is darting anyone!” Ubbe ordered stepping between them.

“Sigurd!” Hvitserk suddenly exclaimed like a curse. The brothers turned to him wide-eyed. “He must have appeared to her, that’s the only way she could have heard any of this bullshit,” he explained.

“Did you speak to Sigurd?” Ivar demanded, he had paled significantly. She raised her eyebrows.

“Is he the ghost with the mullet?” She asked.  They collectively nodded.  Ubbe hung his head and muttered as he ran a hand through his hair in distress.

Ivar stared at her intently, “I know what he told you makes sense and you have no reason to trust us, but Sigurd is a Shade…”

Ubbe interrupted him, “A soul cursed to instil descension, our brother cannot move on until he can cause another to take his place… ” he looked at her uncomfortably, “He knew if you left the house they’d find you, he tried to kill you Earla.” She stilled. “He turned you against us.” It was if she had been walking in a dense fog of confusion that had somehow only managed to get thicker. Who did she trust? A ghost she had just met? Or a classmate and his brothers who had basically kidnapped her? She glanced back to the three brothers and realized they could kill her now in this parking lot and leave her with the dead employees for someone else to find if they wanted. But they hadn’t. Why? If they were High Arbitrators and she was a threat to their position, why didn’t they kill her now?

“You need me for something, don’t you?” She concluded.

‘No’ Ubbe and Hvitserk uttered at the same time as Ivar stammered a ‘yes’.  They stared at their brother in shock.

“We need you, to be able to legitimise our claim,” Ivar admitted, “But we had, and still have, no intention to hurt you.”

Ubbe hung his head, “Get in the van and we’ll explain on the way home, we shouldn’t be out in the open for too long.” Earla bit her lip. She looked into all their faces and shut out the screaming in her head choosing instead to listen to her heart. She stood there for a long time mulling it over before eventually nodding and sheathing the sword.

* * *

 

“Once we found out you were a Sheehy, we decided we could try to use it to our advantage,” Ubbe explained from the front seat. “We thought if we took you under our wing and trained you, you could become our ward, making it seem like we had made peace with your family after what our father did.” The silence in the van tense as Hvitserk flicked the indicator on turning down their street.

“Some clans have banded against us because they are loyal to the Sheehy and Wessex family, others have banded against us because they believe they’re entitled to the throne,” Ivar sighed, “To be truthful we have little support and many clans remain neutral because they fear another civil war,” Ivar admitted, “We reasoned if we could keep you on our side, your presence could calm things or perhaps even encourage the neutral clans to acknowledge our rule,” Ivar finished.    

“So you planned to kinda keep me hostage without me knowing it or knowing the part your family had in killing mine,” She murmured.

“Coming from your mouth, it sounds so much worse,” Hvitserk winced as they pulled up in the driveway.

“So I am guessing Werebear-brother wanted to kill me so you never have the chance or I could never take the throne? How is he your brother by the way?” The three burst into laughter, shattering the seriousness, “What?”

“Werebear?” Hvitserk cackled.

“Is that not what Bjorn is?” She asked with general confusion.

“No,” Ubbe manage through chuckles, “He’s a berserker.”

“I thought they were just crazy on shrooms or something… not actual bears,” they all cackled again.

“Nope, he was born like that,” Ivar snorted an explanation.

“Are you guys werebe-I-mean Berserkers too?”

“No, no,” Hvitserk giggled, “Different mother, he’s our half-brother.”

“Oh.” Earla nodded.

“Well, I think we’ve had quite an eventful evening, I think we should get some shut-eye and then talk further later on this morning,” Ubbe suggested.

* * *

 

She opened her eyes to the drawn curtains and dark room. The alarm clock read 7 am. She still was exhausted. So Why had she woken up? She swivelled her head around sweeping the room seeing nothing, before shutting her eyes. They didn’t stay closed for long. They jolted open when she heard the bed creak and felt the mattress dip. She tried to bolt upright but found she was pinned to the bed. She screamed, but her voice was choked back into noiseless gurgles as cold hands clawed at her throat. She couldn’t breathe, not only had her airways constricted, but there was a heavy weight on her chest. Above her, she could make out a dark shape.

“You should have left while you could,” it hissed in her ear. She recognised the distorted voice immediately; Sigurd.  She sobbed and tried to move, only to find her limb’s filled with lead.  She could feel the burning her lungs now as she struggled for air.

“Get off her!” Another voice snarled in the darkness. The lamp flicked on to reveal Ivar sitting next to the bedside table. She had no idea how he got in here but she had never been happier to see him. Her eyes flickered back to Sigurd who had shed of the humane look he had when she first saw him and replaced it with a raggard-hellish version. His eyes were bloodshot, his veins were dark and his chest was opened and bleeding.

“NO!” Sigurd screamed, “You made me this, you killed me, you promised to make it better, to make it right…”

“And I will, I am sorry, I have been trying…” Ivar tried.

“NOT HARD ENOUGH!”Sigurd jerked unnaturally, “You have taken too long brother, I will end this curse now.” Earla gagged and struggled as his grip tightened.

“Let go of her.” Ivar commanded. Sigurd whimpered and his grip loosened. She could feel the air flow through her again but she still could not move.

“Please don’t Ivar,” Sigurd’s form flickered to his more lively self his face stained with tears, “Let me… Please… I can’t stand this anymore…” he sobbed.

“You will never touch her again Sigurd.” Ivar ordered firmly. Sigurd shrieked and let go of her springing from the bed to the corner of the room as Earla curled up into a ball. “I will find a way to free you, but not like this Sigurd, I just need more time to translate the chronicles…”

“More time?!” The sobbing ghost tensed then shivered, “Please just…hurry…I can’t Ivar… I just… I… I HATE YOU!” He flickered back to the ghoulish nightmare snarling threats before disappearing.

“Are you okay?” Ivar asked her, pulling himself onto the bed to check her over.

“Ivar how… are you… what did you do?” She stammered in shock.

“Shortly after you went to bed I had the feeling that he might try something, so I thought I should sit by the bed and watch you sleep.” His eyes widened in horror as he suddenly realized what he just said and scrambled to fix it, “I meant to watch over you sleeping…I don’t uh watch…I was worried… And um, well you’re safe now, he can’t touch you,” he finished hastily.

“I meant how did you make him go away?” She wheezed as she surveyed the damage and bruising of her throat.

He turned to her and examined her neck with a stern face. He opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out a jar of some unidentifiable goop and gestured for her to tilt her neck. He rubbed on the strange salve and instantly she felt soothing relief.

“Lesson one of staying alive in this line of business; always remember the living control the dead,” he explained.  

“So I’m getting lessons now?” Earla croaked with a smile.

“Maybe,” Ivar smirked back.

“So, Sigurd, he is a Shade, it’s a kind of ghost that is a soul cursed to instil descension,” She remembered.“So he can trick people, lie to them and attack them, is that all he can do?”

“Shades are ghost cursed to be the worst possible version of themselves and cause discord and strife for the living, hence the name Shade, Sigurd is now merely a shadow of what my brother used to be,” Ivar sighed.

“He said you killed him, is that true?” She asked nervously. Ivar stiffened. “I’m sorry, forget it,” she began.

“We were on our first mission alone together, we were investigating a haunting,” he began sadly, “At the time, we both wanted to be speaker for the Ragnarssons and we fought the entire time we were there, it was stupid,” he shook his head, “The Shade, it fed off our negative energy, taunting us, whispering in our ears until…” He trailed off, “I had no idea what was happening, it was like we were possessed, we both picked up our axes and we fought and …we… By the time I realized what happened it was too late, I bought his body home and we buried him in the family plot, but three days later he turned up in the house and he has been haunting me since.”

“You promised to set him free?” Earla questioned.

“I have been searching through our families notes and journals for two years, translating and interpreting, trying to find a way to rid him of the curse,”  Ivar sighed, “But I have found nothing.”

“That’s awful,” Earla sighed, “Are there others like him?”

“I am sure there are,” Ivar sighed.

“If you can teach me to be like you maybe I can help you find a something to break the curse,”  she suggested.

“I thought you said you wanted no part of this life?” Ivar tilted his head at her.

“I can’t just sit back and do nothing now I know that there are people out there in danger from this,” she admitted, “I have a gift, I am a resolute, I am an heir to a throne, I have my family’s honour to uphold, how can I walk away from that?” Ivar snorted and let out a small chuckle. “What?” She asked with confusion.

“For a second there, you sounded like a true Sheehy,” he nodded.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” slapped his arm lightly.

He smirked, “It means; welcome to our world.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: Coarse language, Violence, supernatural elements, gore, death
> 
> So… it’s been awhile but here is the next part of resolute and a signifier of the end of my hiatus. Enjoy!

**2 years later…**

“She’s getting away,” Hvitserk gritted into his com as he propped the unlucky young man up against a wall in the dingy apartment.

“Which way did she go?” Ivar inquired and loaded another bolt into his crossbow and focused his attention on the roof from his position across the street.

“She fled into the left wing, my guess to the stairwell,” Hvitserk reported.

“What about the victim?” Ubbe asked and kept his eyes on the exit and scrolled through the security cameras on the lobby’s front desk, watching for doors that closed by themselves or blurs of movement that rustled pot plants.

“Umm… the victim is in shock, a bit drained but he’ll live,” Hvitserk replied with a shrug. The com was quiet for a few seconds until a familiar female voice cut through the silence.

“She’s heading for the basement, in pursuit,” she puffed as jumped the stair railing. The adrenalin within her dulled the pain shooting up her left leg and allowed her to give chase even with her strange ‘galloping’.

“Basement? There’s no way out! Why would she be heading there?” Ivar wondered aloud.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll finally be rid of her!” She puffed, and the radio crackled.  Over the static, Ivar heard Earla attempt to kick a door in. He didn’t like it, something about this didn’t sit right with him. Why would this cat 8 vampire corner themselves? She was old, she should be smarter than that. The radio crackled again and that was when Ivar realised the basement was interfering with Earla’s com. He panicked, he couldn’t lose her.

“Earla, hold your position, wait for all of us to back you up,” he ordered swinging his crossbow onto his back and picking up his crutches. Not another partner, not on his watch, never again.

“I can do this!” she grunted and kicked the door again. “This is what you’ve all been training me for, let me have this,” she grunted. She kicked again, and the door splintered open.  There in the middle of the room stood Lorelei Camilos, the last member of the Camilos’ cloud that had been terrorising this city for decades. She stood tall and proud, hands neatly folded, a would-be picture of Victorian-era grace, if it weren’t for the blood-stained and torn gown she wore.

“Earla…Engage…wait…coming… it’s a… out…” the radio garbled Ivar’s message with static.

“Oh, so now I engage? Make up your mind!” She rolled her eyes.

“NO… TRAP!” Ivar screeched.  Earla drew her sword from its compartment in her cane and took up a defensive stance, but Lorelei just stood there, blankly smiling. Earla charged and Lorelei rushed past her to the corner. Why would she back herself into a corner? Earla thought. Obviously, this was a trap, but Earla was confused as to how was working. Everything Lorelei had done had been reckless. She seduced the pizza delivery guy from Joe’s, which; for one, was the Ragnarson’s favourite pizza place, and two, right across the road from Earla’s workplace at the craft store, and three, in broad daylight. It was like she was asking to get killed.

“What is this?” She asked cocking her head to the side.

“Just kill me, Sheehy, end it, I am tired,” Lorelei held her arms out in an open gesture. Earla raised a brow.

“What?” This was a first, in the two years she had been slaying, she never had her prey ask to be killed.

“You heard me, you got them all, send me there too, my kin are nothing now and I am nothing without them. You know how that feels, don’t you? But you never knew them, you never watched them grow, you never were held in their arms, you never held your own child to your breast, you never felt the pride in their victories. You were born alone. I have become alone and I cannot bare it any longer,” She confessed.  

“I… um,” Earla began, she didn’t know what to do.

“What, have I taken the sport out of it for you? Will you have no glory? I know your kind is cruel, but surely you are not that cruel as to let me live in agony for eternity,” she spat. Earla swallowed, she never thought about this. She killed and told herself she was doing the right thing; not once did she think of the pain it brought to those around them. Monsters had family too.

“We wouldn’t have to be so ‘cruel’ if your kind didn’t kill us!” She retorted.

“You hunters, you turned your back on your mandate, you left us to starve, and we had to kill again. It is you humans who are the monsters, especially you hunters, too wrapped up in yourself to see what is really going on. You were supposed to help us, now you’re not helping anyone. In the beginning, all creatures respected the authority of The Guild, but you humans got greedy, you killed your own, forgot your purpose and you fight for a Crown that has lost all meaning,” she snarled.

“That’s not true, why would we ever help you?” Earla raised her sword to Lorelei’s throat.

“Have you even read The Chronicles?” She questioned.

“Yes, of course I have!” she argued.

“Have you read your families’ Chronicles?” she asked again and stepped forward into the blade. Earla frowned. She hadn’t, she had only read the Ragnarson’s Chronicles, she didn’t even know if her families’ book still existed. “If you did, you’d know why The Guild was founded, you’d know that you are supposed to help us, because we were once human too,” She whispered. Earla felt the pit of her stomach lurch. She had a point. Really, they were just as much victims as the ones they sucked the life out of.  Her thoughts went to Sigurd, who still tried to inadvertently trip her down the stairs with pulled up carpet now and then. She remembered the night she found out what he was;

* * *

_“Are there others like him?”_

_“I am sure there are,” Ivar sighed._

_“If you can teach me to be like you maybe I can help you find something to break the curse,” she suggested._

_“I thought you said you wanted no part of this life?” Ivar tilted his head at her._

_“I can’t just sit back and do nothing now I know that there are people out there in danger from this…”_

* * *

Earla stood in shock as the realisation dawned on her; she had been killing the very people she promised to help. She had become the monster. This was wrong. The Ragnarsons were wrong. She was wrong.

She was so shocked at the revelation she didn’t notice Lorelei take another step forward and press her flesh against the sword.  

“No!” Earla gasped and drew back the blade, but it was too late, “Where can I find them, please, where are The Chronicles? No! I’ll fix this, I’ll fix this!” She stammered as the Ancient Vampire slumped forward onto her, leaking black, coagulated, blood over Earla’s leather plate armour.

“EARLA!” She heard the screams of the brothers as they thundered down the stairs.

Sighing heavily, she slotted her sword into her cane and took out her hatchet. Resting Lorelei’s body on the floor, she turned her eyes away and hacked at the neck of the poor woman, until the blade hit the concrete floor. Earla watched the body dissolve into dust. Decapitation; was the way she had read you let their soul rest in peace, it was also the way the Ragnarsons’ taught her to dispose of the body.

“Earla?”

“I’m fine, it’s over,” she said and sheathed her hatchet in its pouch at the bottom of her back.

“Don’t ever do something so reckless again!” She heard Ivar shout down the stairwell.

“Yeah,” she ignored him and continued to stare at the pile of dust that was once her greatest adversary.

“I wiped the cameras, we should get out of here before the ambulance gets here,” Ubbe announced then tapped her shoulder lightly, “You okay?”

“Fine, let’s go home,” she nodded and walked past him and Hvitserk. With the adrenalin gone she limped up the stairs and met stern icy blue eyes.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” he lectured.

“I’ll try not to partner, but I won’t make any guarantees,” she joked and moved to go past him.

“I’m serious,” Ivar protested and staggered after her on his new crutches. She rolled her eyes, she hated it when he got like this.

“I appreciate your concern Ivar, I really do, and I know I am a newbie to this, but I’m not as fragile as I once was, okay?” She said opening the door to the lobby and stepped aside for him.

“Earla, I know you want to prove yourself, really, you have no idea how much I understand that, but you need to know your limits-” He began.

“Wait, my limits?” She let the door go behind her and unknowingly slammed it in Hvitserk’s face.

“Uh oh, they’re going to have a domestic,” Hvitserk whispered to Ubbe with a chuckle.

“Yes, your limits, you have them, one of them is that you are inexperienced another is that you are reckless and then there’s always your mobility-”

“Oh, my stupid leg! That’s what it always boils down too, isn’t it? I got one more than you, arsehole-”

“Language,” Ubbe interjected but Earla ignored him and ripped open the van’s side door.

“Reckless, ha, now that’s the pot calling the kettle black, I should’ve lectured you when you went and charged headfirst into a Succubus’ snare,” she spat. “Oh, look at me I am such a good hunter, I’ve been doing this since birth, but I’m still a weak-minded fool blinded by a demonic shapeshifter’s boobs and melodious voice, if only I had a friend who said, oh I don’t know, Immune to hypnotic charms of supernatural creatures, oh wait I do, I just sidelined her by putting her on lookout duty! Never mind, guess getting snogged to death by ‘Freydis’ isn’t a bad way to go!” She retorted in a poor imitation of his voice.

“You were just jealous,” he snickered. Earla swallowed air as her throat went dry and her mouth hung open. After a second, she composed herself and turned away to hide her reddening face.

“That’s mighty presumptuous of you,” she scoffed. Hvitserk snorted and started the car. “Anyway, my point is you gotta trust me to handle things by myself, I know what I’m capable of, I’ll never get any better if you keep benching me.” She explained then looked to, Ubbe silently asking for help. ‘Don’t bring me into this’ he mouthed. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He sighed, “She’s got a point Ivar.”

Ivar was silent for a while before he hung his head, “I know,” he admitted. “I just…I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he mumbled. She tilted her head at him and smiled sadly.

“You won’t get rid of me easily, I promise you that,” she nudged him. The corner of his mouth turned up.

“That’s another thing I’m afraid of,” he joked. They all laughed.

* * *

Since that fateful day of her attack, her days were mostly happy. She felt belonging she had found in no other place. The Ragnarson’s world was bright, exciting, and full of adventure, weird, scary adventure. The mysterious world of The Guild and its Hunters had enchanted her with forgotten history and yellowed ancient books written in dead languages. It was wonderful, but there was always darkness creeping around the edges; victims of horrors, mangled corpses that haunted her dreams, ancient blood feuds, curses, and the strange feeling that she was missing a piece of the puzzle. She had always felt that The Guild had its problems, that the brothers hid things from her, but it had never really concerned her until now, after Lorelei’s parting words. As the Ragnarsons celebrated in the car, Earla couldn’t fully bring herself to join them. She felt a deep unease. Little did she know that her unease was not unwarranted. Little did any of them know that the beginning of trouble had been delivered to Kattegat Manor early that morning and laid patiently for them in a sealed envelope.

* * *

At first, it was ignored. It completely missed Hvitserk’s field of vision as he stepped through the door and chucked his sword and scabbard into what was supposed to be an umbrella stand. Ubbe missed it as well, choosing to instead chastise Hvitserk for not taking his shoes off. Earla also walked right over it in her eagerness to get to the shower. It was Ivar who spotted the red envelope with the gold wax seal while he propped his crutches up next to the door. He scooped it off the floor and dragged himself to the parlour.

“Urgent family meeting now!” He shouted.  

“Family? Or household?”  He heard Earla’s voice ring down the main staircase.

“Household,” he replied and smiled to himself, “And no, this cannot wait, you can shower after.” He heard a long groan of annoyance in reply.

“Me as well?” An unwanted voice whispered in his ear. Ivar shivered at the cold hands on his back.

“No Sigurd, living household member’s only, kindly, get lost,” he gritted.

“Okay, but’s kinda hard to get lost in your own house…” Sigurd said slyly.

“Go away,” He commanded and felt the coldness leave the room.

“Okay, fine by me, I was going to spend the night at Margrethe’s anyway…” Hvitserk shrugged and turned to leave.

“No not you, The Other Brother,” Ivar sighed. Ubbe appeared in the doorway, shrugging a new shirt on with a questioning look on his face. Earla limped in last, still armoured and covered in sticky black ooze.

“What is it?” Ubbe asked finally and sat down.

“This arrived, today, slipped under the door,” Ivar announced and deposited the red envelope on the coffee table.  Hvitserk stiffened, Ubbe almost snarled and Earla raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry to sound like a noob but, um, what is it exactly?” She asked. Ubbe lent forward and plucked it off the table and broke the seal.

“Greetings High Arbitrator Ubbe and fellow Ragnarsons, descendants of the clan Lothbrok, we pray this letter finds you well,” he began to read slowly, “You have been sent this letter to notify your clan that a Witan has been called. Three weeks from now, The High Arbitrator and at least The Speaker of your clan must be in attendance at Tara for the duration of the Witan. Please notify us of how many members of your clan will be in attendance within two days of receiving this summons. Regards, Guild Administration… this is bad, really bad,” Ubbe finished, folding the paper and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Who’s Administration?” She asked, “Also if a Witan is what I remember reading about, I don’t see what’s so scary about a Guild-Con-”

“What’s scary is, ‘Guild-Con’, isn’t supposed to happen for another three years, also the High Arbitrator shouldn’t be receiving a summons, Ubbe is supposed to send the summons, he does the summoning!” Hvitserk threw his hands up into the air.

“What disturbs me most is this, ‘Administration’,” Ivar began seriously, “I didn’t think an ‘Administration’ existed,” Ivar questioned.

“The whole thing stinks of Ingstad,” Ubbe agreed. Earla, however, had another idea.

“I’m not so sure,” Earla spoke up. The brothers turned and looked at her, edging her on to explain herself. “Have you all read your family chronicles?”

“Of course,” Ivar said with a hint of offence in his voice.

“Yeah?” Ubbe and Hvitserk answered with a little uncertainty.

“What happened in 1348?” She asked smugly.

“The Black Death became a major epidemic in Europe,” Ivar answered.

“And 1764?”

“The Beasts of Gévaudan incident; the Lycanthrope siege of France,” Ivar furrowed his brow, “Sorry where are you going with this, this isn’t a pop quiz is it? Am I being graded?” he smirked.

“It just so happens that these were years where Witans were held, regardless of the five year cycle, there are countless other instances of Emergency Witans being called; 1692; The Witch Trials, 1838; Spring Heeled Jack, 1888; Whitechapel, hell, even the Scott’s managed to call one over the 1933 Nessie incident, which just turned out to be a photo of a sunken rowboat, your great-grandfather goes on about his frustration about missing his anniversary extensively…and I’m getting off topic… look my point is, it’s been a while since we’ve had a supernatural disaster, perhaps something’s happened?” Earla shrugged. “Food for thought, I’ll leave you boys to it, I smell like a strange combination of coagulated blood and mothballs so I’m taking a shower now and no one can stop me,” she announced and left the room. Then popped her head back a few seconds later, “Quick question; Where’s Tara?”

* * *

The flight to Ireland was exhausting, they arrived in Dublin at some dreadful hour of the morning. By the time they snuck their weapons through customs using Elven Pocket’s and other miscellaneous bits of magic and found a cab that could take Ivar in his chair and all their luggage, the sun was peeking over the horizon. Earla slumped onto Ivar’s shoulder on the car ride to nowhere, but he didn’t exactly mind as he was already asleep. Hvitserk also crashed against the taxi window and left Ubbe to sit in the front and make small talk with the driver. Their moments of rest weren’t too long though, 45 minutes later the band arrived at the Hill of Tara.

“Here ye’s are, are ye sure this is where ye’s want to be? The Archaeological complex doesn’t open till 10?” The taxi driver questioned.

“Yeah, we are staying with friends, they’ll pick us up from here, thanks for the ride,” Ubbe lied and paid the driver. They all barely kept their eyes open as they watched the taxi disappear from view.

“Now what?” Earla asked, staring at the strange mounds, and seeing nothing but empty green hills where ramparts would have once stood.

“Follow my lead,” Ubbe smiled and walked forward pulling along his and Ivar’s suitcases. “The Mac Faloan clan has resided at Tara since the guild was founded, they built the original fort that left these ramparts, but unfortunately a certain group of people burnt it down,” Ubbe rattled off as he strode towards the bottom of the hill. “Now the clever thing your ancestors did when they rebuilt, Earla, is copy fae’s ability to cloak their realm within our own, they invented íadach sídaige, or what we call Elven Pockets,” he explained.

“Okay, but no one can make one big enough to hide an entire castle, right?” Earla questioned and scanned the hill ahead and saw nothing but a lone stone at the top.

“They could, they were so good at replicating sídaige magic they managed to create what modern science would call a pocket dimension, it’s the only human-built one in existence,” Ivar explained excitedly.

“Here I was thinking tunnels and underground cities. But no, sounds more like a Tardis.” Earla observed. Ivar shook his head in some description of shame or disappointment.

Hvitserk, however, perked up, “It doesn’t travel in time or space or through other dimensions,” Hvitserk answered, “But, it is kinda bigger on the inside.”  

She shook her head and laughed, “This is blowing my mind right now, I gotta see this, how do we get in?”

“Like so,” Ubbe said with a grin and closed his eyes. He turned around and started walking backwards. Earla gasped in shock when he completely disappeared from view after a few paces.

“You pass the last tree on the left side of the path then take seven paces backwards, with your eyes closed,” Hvitserk explained with a grin and took hold of Ivar’s chair and began to walk backwards with his eyes closed. It wasn’t long before both he and Ivar disappeared and left her alone with her suitcase.  Earla let out a tired and hysterical laugh.

“Oh, this is bonkers,” she chuckled and closed her eyes, turned around and walked backwards.  On her seventh step, she felt an odd tingling sensation pass over her body. She cracked her eyes open and was met with an impressive cobbled archway accompanied by a formidable wall. She spun around and gawked in awe, “What the f-”

“Language,” Ubbe chastised with a smirk, “But to be fair, I had the same reaction when I first saw this place, welcome to Tara.”

In front of her the once empty hills were now occupied by a village and another wall which she deduced must surround the castle. At first glance the town looked somewhat medieval but looking more closely Earla realized it was more like a conglomerate mess of eras.  The streets were lit by Victorian-era gas lamps, the typical ye-olde looking bakery was sporting a neon sign advertising pizza and in front of her, an ox-drawn cart lumbered behind a blue kombi camper.

 Earla was in such a daze she didn’t realise the Ragnarsons had started walking again until Ivar tugged on her arm.

“Come on, you can gawk later, we don’t have all day, the Witan starts at noon and we want to get some rest before then.” Earla replied with a stunned ‘okay’ and slowly staggered after the group.

* * *

Half an hour before noon, Earla left her adjoining room to the Ragnarsons and waited in the hall. She didn’t have to wait long for them to join her, but when they did, she noticed something quite peculiar. The first was that Ivar’s chair had been traded for his crutches again. She sighed, he had ignored her again. She had told him many times that people wouldn’t think less of him for sitting in the chair, but it seemed he would rather cause himself discomfort and prove something she didn’t quite understand. However, the second thing she noticed was the Ragnarson’s attire

“What are you wearing?” She asked looking each of them up and down.

“Our traditional armour, what are you wearing?”  Hvitserk scoffed at her blouse and skirt.

“You said this was a formal occasion, and also what do you mean ‘traditional armour’ there is no way that is authentic, come on, Hvitserk, studded leather? Really? How is that in any way more effective than ordinary leather,” she turned to Ivar, “And Ivar, I expect more from you, come on, what the hell is that chainmail doing other than just hanging there, flapping about, useless!”

“Well at least it looks cool,” Hvitserk shrugged.

Ubbe hid his face in his palm, “Earla, formal means you wear your families traditional dress armour-”

“But I don’t have any,” she interjected.

“Put your normal leather plate armour on and hurry.”

“Arrhg.” she groaned as she pictured all the ties and straps, “That’s gonna take a while you go ahead, it’s in the meeting hall, right?”

“The assembly hall,” Ivar corrected, “East wing, level one.” He instructed then lurched off down the hallway.

“Okay got it.”

* * *

“I don’t got it,” She whispered to herself in a panicked voice as she wandered aimlessly through the corridors, cane clicking on the stone floor. It was five past twelve now. She was certain she was in the right place, level one, east wing …. But there was no one around. “Ivar’s going to kill me-”

“Hurry up Alfred, god we’re so late mum’s going to kill us!” A voice echoed through the hall behind her. “Oh my God, People!” She thanked the heavens as she turned and saw two young men speed walking down the hall. “Excuse me-”

“Not now, we’re in a hurry, if you’re missing sheep, take it up with someone else, there’s not much I can do about the situation right now,” the first man dismissed.

“What-No I-”

“Take your problems somewhere else and get lost,” He grunted and broke into a jog.

“I already am,” she murmured. She heard a chuckle from the second one, Alfred.

“So, you’re going to the Witan then?” He guessed, “Sorry about my brother Aethelred, he is under a lot of pressure, it’s his first time as speaker now dad’s dead.”

“Oh, my condolences.” She nodded awkwardly.

“Oh no, sorry, that’s really bad way to start a conversation, right?” He grimaced. She laughed, what a dork…but a cute dork, she thought. “So let’s start again, I’m Alfred,” he introduced, “Alfred of Wessex.”  

Her smile faltered, “What.” No! Not him too! why do all the cute guys come from families that murdered my family? She asked herself.

“What?” He asked in confusion.

Oh, crap he noticed, she panicked, “What… no way… wow… Wessex, that’s soo cool-”

“My family did something to yours didn’t it?” He interrupted her.

“Yeeaah, don’t worry about it… I mean in this crowd, whose family hasn’t?” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m Earla by the way, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to be, you see this my first time in Ireland and at Tara and generally everything,” she blabbered. He nodded and chuckled.

“Good thing I found you, this way I can be fashionably late with a lovely lady, rather than just late and lonesome,” he gestured for her to follow. She laughed, he certainly was a charmer. Almost too charming, she observed. The suspicious part of her mind began to delve deeper into the gesture when he interrupted her. “Oh, and just for next time, the assembly hall is level one, east wing.”

“But… we are on the first level?” She asked, puzzled.

“No,” he chuckled, “This is the ground level.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed dumbly and followed him down the hall with her head hung low and her cheeks red.


	5. part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ragnarsons Vampire Hunter AU  
> fandom: Vikings  
> Characters; Ubbe, Ivar, Hvitserk, Alfred, and JONATHAN THE SELKIE  
> warnings: Coarse language, supernatural elements,

 

* * *

* * *

 

“With the conclusion of the previous Witan’s minutes-” A man stopped speaking and glared at Alfred and Earla as they slunk through the door into the tiered auditorium, “-I announce this Witan to be in session.”

“Where were you?” Ivar gritted as she took her place at his side behind the Ragnarson’s bench.

“I was on the ground floor not the first floor,” she murmured glancing around at the many different cultural groups on display.

Ivar rolled his eyes, “Please just sit there and don’t say anything, Okay?”

“The Speaker of the Clan Ingstad, you have the floor,” the man spoke again.

“Who is that over there?” She whispered. Ivar, however, was to busy glaring at the woman standing up from her chair.

“He is The Moderator,” Hvitserk explained quickly before the woman began to speak.

“I have called this Witan-”

“I knew it!” Hvitserk hissed.

“-In order to challenge for the position of High Arbitrator.” The woman, who she assumed was Earl Ingstad announced. A wave of murmurs passed through the room.

“On what grounds,” Ubbe sneered from his high seat.

“I believe Ubbe ragnarson to be unfit for the position of high arbitrator, he has no experience in leading, and this clearly shows, for one, he has failed to keep control of his own designated territory, the Ragnarson’s territory has the highest number of human deaths caused under supernatural circumstances-”

“That is based off evidence from two years ago, and not relevan-” Ubbe objected.

“-Above this, he has broken our sacred code, Speakers, High Arbitrator Ubbe Ragnarson has illegally allocated Ivar ragnarson as speaker of his clan!” Lagertha accused with a pointed look at Ivar. Ivar tensed and swallowed. Murmurs arose through the hall. Earla tried to catch Ivar’s eye but failed, opting to lay a supportive hand on his arm under the bench.

“Order!” The Moderator called, “Speaker of Ingstad, what requirement do you believe has not been met?”

“Ivar Ragnarson is a murderer, in fact, he has committed fratricide, as The Code states; no Speaker may have the blood of a human to their name,” Lagertha informed. Ubbe stood up, rage radiating from his eyes.

“Murder committed under possession is not considered a conscious crime of anyone but the possessor!” Ubbe argued, “ And you Earl Ingstad have a great deal of nerve calling this meeting to present yourself a worthy candidate when, you, have been heavily implicated in your late husband’s mysterious disappearance, my mother’s murder. And let’s not forget that you and your son, attempted to assassinate my ward, two years ago, to date.” Ubbe barked and gesturing in Earla’s direction. Across the room, Alfred raised an Eyebrow at her. “Surely, plotting a murder and attempting to murder a human, no less, another hunter, is a greater disqualification then me, electing my brother, who has not consciously committed any crime, to speak for my clan! If that is the only reason this Witan was called, well I believe it has been a tremendous waste of time.”

“Well, this certainly isn’t as dull as the Chronicles write it to be,” she whispered in Ivar’s ear. He snorted but kept his face a serious, blank, mask.

“Is anyone willing to second The Speaker for Clan Ingstad’s Motion?” The Moderator asked the room and was met with silence.

“The next item on the agenda, please, Sean,” Ubbe sat back and took a sip of water.

“The Wessex Clan has also brought a challenge to the Witan-” The Moderator began but was interrupted by a young man dressed in nothing but board shorts poking his head through the door.

“Please be excusing me, but is it my turn?” He asked in an accent she couldn’t place. She tilted her head in interest.

“I told your kind have no place in Guild matters, please, someone remove him,” The Moderator dismissed.

“But the Guild is for land people, land people are problem, Guild can help, Please,” he pleaded, the young man’s, or what she thought was a young man’s, deep brown eyes met hers. Some men from what she believed was the Mc Farloan clan began to wrestle him towards the door

“The Speaker for Wessex you-”

“Wait!” Earla called out and stood up, leaning on the bench for support. The Moderator rolled his eyes, sick of being interrupted. Ivar stared up at her with a panicked look mouthed a nervous ‘what are you doing?!’ Earla ignored him and stared at all the eyes around the room now staring at her, suddenly feeling a wave of nervousness wash over her .

“T-that sounded far more important than whatever petty feud you have,” she uttered finally.

“Excuse me?” Aethelred exclaimed.

“Who is she?” Another clan’s speaker jumped up from her seat.

“Only their speaker Ivar Ragnarson can speak!” Another Speaker shouted. The room descended into a cacophony, while the young man in board shorts watched with childlike interest from the doorway.

“Order… Order, Order! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, ORDER!” The Moderator screamed eventually everyone shut up and sat down except for Earla. “The Moderator does not recognise the speaker, Arbitrator, do you allow this?” He asked Ubbe, who looked very amused.

“Let her speak,” Ubbe nodded.

The Moderator raised an eyebrow, “Please, identify yourself and your clan’s speaker,” he asked with uncertainty.

“Um… Hi, I am Earla, Earla Sheehy, I-uh-my clan… I am the last remaining member of the Sheehy Clan, soo… I guess I speak for myself then,” she introduced as another wave of murmurs past through the assembly.

Ivar stared up at her, “Earla, Sit. Down. Now.” He gritted and she swallowed but kept standing.

“Aren’t you all tired of this? Cause I am, And I have only been part of this world for two years, I can’t imagine the frustration some of you feel, you Mam-” she pointed to an old Chinese woman, “Aren’t you sick of this?” The old woman nodded slowly, “We all have lost much in the civil war, friends, brothers, sisters… mothers and fathers, But it appears you have learnt nothing through that loss,” She spat her frustration, and the room sparked with murmurs of indignation, “We learnt that we can’t afford another civil war, we learnt that malevolent creatures can take advantage of our disarray and crawl from their hiding places and undo everything our ancestors strived to achieve.”

A few speakers seemed to nod their heads along, with her as she continued, “While you now fight like children, for a seat with a fancy name tag, there are actually people counting on us. There are people, like how I was when I was attacked; helpless and ignorant, out there dying, because your pride is more important. I for one would like to actually do my job… I say let him speak, he came all this way, it must be urgent,” she finished and thanked The Moderator and Ubbe for letting her speak before sitting down.

She turned to find Ivar studying her intensely before he chuckled and shook his head, “You’re braver than most Speaker for Sheehy.”

“Any objections?” Ubbe asked daring someone to speak. A man stood up from his bench dressed in a very strange hat and white robes. Wait, no way, is that a Bishop? Earla thought to herself.

“Bishop Headmund, The Speaker for The Vatican,” The Moderator announced.

“The Vatican?” She asked in disbelief, “You mean like Catholics and The Pope?”

“Well, the Vatican is a country,” Hvitserk shrugged.

Ivar smirked and sat back, “One thing you should know about The Bishop, Earla; he always manages to find some way to disagree with reason.”

“As inspiring as that speech was Miss Sheehy, I would just like to clarify with the Arbitrator, we are a human authority, right? And as a human authority, we are concerned with the safety of humans?” Ubbe nodded and the Bishop continued, “So then, the concerns of a Selkie, a primitive, naive, being, are none of our concern. That in fact, if it has a problem, it should be consulting its own species?”

There was another murmur and a few members nodded in agreement. Earla’s hackles raised, “That’s the most insul-” Ivar clapped a hand over her mouth and wrestled her back into her seat before she drew too much attention.

“Let it go, getting angry won’t help your case,” he whispered and let her go.

“Will someone second the Speaker for Sheehy’s motion?” A few hands raised into the air, but Ivar’s was not one of them. Earla raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t meet her eyes. “Speakers consult your clans, a motion has been put forward what say you?”

Slowly around the room people stood and delivered their decisions; No, Nein, Hai, Ya, Sí, Yes, Oui, Uimh, Aye, Shì, Non, Nai… and many more.

“Nay,” Ivar said finally.

Earla turned to him in shock, “Ivar?”

“The nays have it,” The Moderator announced, “Speaker for Clan Wessex you have the floor.”

Earla zoned out of the bickering that ensued and slumped utterly deflated in her chair. She locked eyes with the Selkie as they dragged him out of the hall.

“I’m sorry Earla, if we step in help now it will set a precedent and allow more species to come to us for help, we can’t interfere,” Ivar explained, “It’s just how politics works, It’s nothing personal,” he whispered. She scoffed.

“It’s personal Ivar, because I’ve taken it personally, I thought you and I were friends, partners!” She gritted.

“Earla we are friends, you just have to think about this about it rationally,” he gritted back.

“And you should have a heart,” She bit back and turned away from him.

“Earla,” He whined. She continued to ignore him from the remainder of the Witan.

* * *

 

Earla left the assembly hall and trudged into the village surrounding the castle. She was Heading towards the pizza place she had seen earlier, deciding to drown her woes in garlic bread. After that Witan full of pointless arguments and betrayal she needed comfort food. As she neared the bizarre neon sign she noticed a certain young board shorted fellow kicking stones and grunting as he neared the wall of the city.

“Hey! Wait!” she called out and limped over to him. He turned his head in surprise. “Look I’m sorry you didn’t even get to talk,” she apologised. He tilted his head letting his deep red hair fall into his eyes before he huffed at it and shook his head rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision.

“It is okay,” he sighed.

“No, it’s not, that was a real shitshow in there,” she sighed.

“She-it sh-owe? I do not know what that means,” he tilted his head. She sucked a breath in guiltily, feeling as if she had sworn in front of a child.

“Um uh, it means really bad, really messy… hey listen, do you want to share a pizza of defeat with me-” she stopped, observing at his frown and realising she had lost him at pizza, “Are you hungry?” she rephrased.

They sat in a booth with garlic bread, a meat lovers pizza and a margarita pizza with extra cheese, all for her of course. He wasn’t feeling very adventurous with human food, which resulted in the cashier giving her a very strange look before ultimately shrugging and handing over a whole jar of anchovies for the selkie.

“So tell me, what brought you this far inland, it must have been important if you came all this way to try get human help from The Guild?” She asked and devoured a slice.

“Earla, you are different, you a good land sister, will you get in trouble if I tell?” He questioned back and tried a shrivelled tiny fish from the jar experimentally.

“Probably, but what are they gonna do about it?” She scoffed.

“It is three of my sisters, they went ashore last week and they have not come back,” he admitted sadly.

“Is it common for them to stay on land long?” She put down her slice as The Selkie appeared to be very distraught all of a sudden.

“No.” He sniffed and turned away, collecting himself before continuing, “I think a land person has taken them, it has not been common for many years… land people do not believe we exist… so no more stealing selkie skin… but more selkie have gone missing,” he managed to get out then tipped the jar into his mouth to muffle his whimpering.

“More?” She pried.

“Yes, only 3 of my sisters but also others… male and female, also merrows… my friend Declan a merrow, his mother is missing,” The Selkie detailed. Earla swallowed. This was serious. This was big, beyond her. This was a task force sized issue, not a solo, under the rug operation she could sneak off to do in the middle of the night by herself. She was drawn from her worries when the seat underneath her dipped. She turned and jumped in surprise.

“How many would you estimate have been taken?” Alfred asked and reached out for a slice of pizza, “May I?” She absentmindedly nodded in shock. “What? You didn’t think I wasn’t curious after a stunt like that, Sheehy?” He chuckled and didn’t break eye contact as he took a bit of pizza. Earla raised an eyebrow. Was that flirtatious? A challenge? A threat? She didn’t know.

“Estimate?” The Selkie asked, bringing her attention back to the situation.

“A guess, how many do you think have been kidnapped?” She explained. The Selkie stopped a moment and furrowed his brow in concentration.

“7 groups of 10,” He nodded to himself.

“70!?” Both she and Alfred exclaimed at once.

“Maybe more or maybe less,” The Selkie bit his lip. Earla sat stunned.

“This is serious, perhaps we could talk to Arbitrator Ubbe and ask for a revote with this information,” she put forward finally.

“I imagine Ubbe would want to help, but I don’t think a revote would make much difference, as far as the majority is concerned; not our species, not our problem,” Alfred countered.

“I… don’t know what else I can do… I don’t exactly have resources-” she stammered, “-I don’t have anything, even my gear is the Ragnarson’s.”

“I have resources, unfortunately, Aethelred and my mother most likely wouldn’t approve, but I’ll do what I can, I know someone who might be able to help us, it’ll be a bit unorthodox, but he’ll help,” Alfred put forward.

“I’ll ask the brothers, Ubbe probably wouldn’t risk it because of his position, but maybe Hvitserk will help?” She suggested.

“What about Ivar?” Alfred pressed, “Aren’t you two partners? I thought you were close.”

She bit her lip, “I don’t know, today he didn’t support the vote, but that aside, we’ll meet at the gate at 8:00pm tonight, with or without them, I promise you… uh, what is your name?”

“Uhgrrarh or Jonathan in your language,” he supplied.

“Right, ahhrrg-Jonathan, I promise, I will do everything I can to help your people, and bring your sister’s home,” she promised. Jonathan grinned at her and suddenly leant across the table and pressed his lips against hers. She jumped back in shock and sat dazed and blinking. “Thank you land sister,” he smiled and stood up, “See you tonight at the 8th hour,” he winked at her and Alfred before leaving.

“First time you’ve dealt with selkies?” Alfred smirked at her as she shrunk into her seat sputtering, “Word of warning for you; though they seem quite innocent and almost childlike, selkies are very forward and very, very liberal, their ways of expressing gratitude can be… interesting.”

“Well then, thanks for the warning,” she said sarcastically.

“You’re upset?”Alfred observed, “Was that your first kiss?”

She scoffed, “It doesn’t have to be my first kiss for me to be upset about it.”

“It was wasn’t it?” Alfred correctly guessed.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter, see you tonight, hopefully, I’ll at least an extra pair of hands,” she dismissed and unintentionally left Alfred with free pizza.

* * *

 

“We can’t, it is not our jurisdiction,” Ivar stated outright.

“Well, what exactly is our jurisdiction?” She asked him, “Is there somewhere it says ‘thou shall not help people who need it’ am I missing something?”

“Selkies aren’t people Earla,” Ivar countered.

“That’s racist,” she said. Hvitserk and Ubbe just exchanged a look and continued to observe the bickering pair.

“Earla, It’s not racist, the Selkies need to figure this out by themselves, we can not interfere in their matters, we have enough problems in the Guild without bringing other species into the mix,“ He shook his head.

“Did you even listen to a word I said! We aren’t interfering, they are asking for our help and humans are the problem as far as I’m concerned humans have already interfered! They don’t stand a chance of solving this themselves, for crying out loud Jonathan didn’t even know what a pizza was ‘till today!”

“I forbid it, especially since you’re considering joining with the Wessex clan,” he stated coolly.

“Ivar, it that why you’re doing this? Because I am allying myself with the Wessex clan?”

“Partly, I do not think it is a good idea to trust a man you met in a hallway just today, whose grandfather killed your family, it’s insane, it’s a bad move, other clans will not respect you as a speaker if you forgive such transgressions,” Ivar advised. Earla just stood back and laughed hysterically and tapped her cane to her head.

“You mean such transgressions that your family has committed as well? You know what Ivar, I figured it out, it took me two years to realise you’re a selfish bastard,” she sniffed as tears welled up. Ubbe and Hvitserk watched on, mouths agape. “You don’t care about doing what’s right, you only care about your family’s bloody feud and power, you were going to use me for your own little political game, and you did use me, and I am done! I am done with putting up with your bullshit, sorry Ubbe but there is no other word for it, I love you Ivar and I see now that I have been wasting my time and energy,” she cried and reach up to her shoulder and with some difficulty, ripped the insignia off her armour and threw it in Ivar’s lap.

“Earla, I… I … Don’t do this,” he stammered.

“You see this, this is where you apologise. Tell me why I shouldn’t,” she sobbed, “Give me one reason, Ivar.”

“I…” He stammered but was lost for words. Seconds ticked by and silence reigned. Earla sniffed and turned to leave.

“I don’t regret our time together- “ She eyed each one of them, “You all have become family I never had, I wish you all well and I hope you can find a good new partner Ivar, but I just can’t agree with this and have a clear conscience,” she admitted sadly. “From now on it’s just me and whoever isn’t kissing arse in this bloody circus,” she muttered and hobbled towards the door and opened it to her adjoining quarters. “Oh and I’m keeping my gear,” she added as an afterthought before closing the door and locking it.

* * *

 

“So, I guess it went well then?” Alfred greeted her as she neared the gate. He was leaning on the hood of the blue Kombi camper she had seen driving around earlier. Jonathan was also there standing there, still in board short but now also sporting a worse for wear, Thomas the Tank Engine backpack. Next to him, stood another young man with large a hoodie and cap obscuring his face.

“Fantastic, nobody’s helping me, I renounced the Ragnarssons and I am now officially on my own, yay,” she deadpanned.

“Really?” he asked puzzled, “Why are they here then?” He pointed past her and she turned to see Hvitserk sheepishly step out from an alleyway followed by Ubbe, both dressed in their armour and swords strapped to their sides.

“Couldn’t let you take all the credit now could we?” Hvitserk smirked. Earla watched them walk towards her and hoped to see one more figure slowly hobble out of the alley behind them, but as expected Ivar didn’t come running to her apologising profusely and taking her in his arms and kissing her forehead. It struck her odd that out of everything in this situation, that hope was the most unlikely and fanciful thing that could happen.

“I take it Ivar doesn’t know about this?” She guessed and the two brothers shook their heads.

She pursed her lips and turned to Alfred, “Will you introduce me ‘Unorthodox’ friend then?”

“Sheehy, Ragnarsons, this is my foster brother, Magnus Ragnarson,” Alfred introduced.

“Pleased to meet, you brothers, at last,” the hooded man introduce. Hvitserk and Ubbe just stood there, staring. “Getting straight to the point, I’m going to need a last known location and item the belonged to the dece- I mean missing,“ he stated, “Forgive me, it’s been a long time since I have been around humans.”

“I bought one of sister’s pillow like you told me, and I know beach they came ashore,” Jonathan announced and pulled a stuffed sail cloth pillow out of his bag and handed it to the young man. Magnus snatched the pillow and took a deep whiff, “Ugh, fish, but mmmm seal…”

“Umm, what are you doing?“ Hvitserk asked. Magnus ignored him and jumped into the van and took a window seat pulling back his hood and letting his long, haggard, unkempt, blonde hair spilling over his shoulders.

“Someone start driving toward the beach!” he barked, literally barked.

“Oh my gods,” Earla gasped.

“You’re a werewolf?” Ubbe said, shocked. Ubbe sat next his half-brother and Jonathan climbed right into the back away from Magnus. Alfred shrugged and got in the passenger seat.

“A few years back on a mission he got bit, Aethelwulf said he killed him, but, turns out he just hid him, I found him when Aethelred and I investigated the missing sheep situation… anyway, he’s got it under control; animal’s only, never the same farmer twice, unless he’s a prick, Isn’t that right bro?” Alfred asked the back seat.

“So who’ll drive?” Hvitserk asked Earla. She took one peak into the driver’s seat and shook her head.

“It’s a manual, you drive,” she muttered.

“What? A Sheehy that can’t drive a stick?” Alfred laughed. Earla frowned at him and held up her cane.

“I physically can’t use the clutch, too much nerve damage to my left leg and foot,” she explained. Alfred was mortified and apologised immediately. She waved it off, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Hvitserk gleefully jumped into the front while she climbed in the back and awkwardly sat next to Jonathan, who gave her a mischievous smirk.

“I always wanted to drive one of these!” Hvitserk exclaimed and turned the ignition. He reached for the CD player and “Dancing Queen” blasted loudly in the car. Jonathan and Magnus whined and covered their ears everyone else jump.

“Hehe, sorry my mum’s been in this car,” Alfred laughed nervously. Hvitserk flicked the radio on flicked through a few channels before Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” played.

“Oh yeah, this will do nicely,” Hvitserk nodded and hit the accelerator speeding off as Ubbe warned everyone to wear their seatbelts.


End file.
